User blog:ChaoSpaceMar/In need of opinions
''So yeah, I've got this fragment of an upcoming story I'd like to have opinions about, if it pleases you. '' Pirate-y thingy When the Skakdi and the Ga-Matoran entered the pub, the crowd, sitting at their tables, sipping their drinks and small-talking, shuddered when recognizing the famed Captain and his cold First Mate. It's been years since the pub's usuals last saw either of them, and for others only legends of their appearances guided their eyes, but these sea-born, whom heard tales of wicked pillaging, glorious battles and stolen riches by the scurviest of crews, knew they'd be coming back one day, to the place where it all started. The pub holder, a grumpy old Skorr in general, took a false friendly tone and warmly invited them in from the back of the room. Most of tables emptied at these words, knowing a night with the Captain usually ended badly at the establishment he drank in, like 12 years ago, when the place burned down after a rumble between his four crewmen and the soon-to-be First Mate Miscris. As both of the notorious pirates sat down at the counter, the greedy bastard, seeking the Captain's good patronage, took a casual posture and asked what poison he wanted. "Like last time, if yer memories aren't leaking yet, ya old scrubber. And give the same to the lady, this lass needs a real drink frem time to time! Don't worry 'bout yer pay, tis time we're loaded! he ungraciously offered, laughing up." With these rude but gratifying words, the bartender began working on the overly-complicated drink his client asked for, as the Captain turned the other way around and began examining the new layout of the pub. Exactly like the old one, the same dirty little poopdeck. Curiously, in a corner, he saw a regular stool, polished and surrounded by a chained barrier. -Wuzzat in the corner, old stump? You keeping materials for a rumble's aftermath tis time? "In case of pirate clients, break barrier?" the Skakdi asked, laughing at his own joke. His First Mate, however, began to turn her head curiously toward the object in question, interested in the story behind this singular setup. -Nay, tis a souvenir, it is! the bartender replied, smiling as his eyes were filled with nostalgia, looking at the Ga-Matoran. Souvenir of a rumble better than your own, lass! An' it has a happy ending, even for the most one-sided fight I've seen in centuries. The Skakdi laughed it up. The bartender gave both the pirates their drinks, even though Miscris had no interest in that at the moment. -As if there'd be a lad capable of having such an effect on yer old mess'o a mind. And who'd be that singular brawler, if I dare ask? the Captain said sarcastically before beginning to drink his glass bottoms up. The bartender smiled wickedly before answering. -T'was the Green Corsair, it was. The Captain choked on his drink and, with difficulty, spat it out on the ground, leaving Miscris alarmed. As she offered help, he pushed her away, and he took back a proud stance, as he was cleaning up the corner of his mouth with his cape before taking an impassible expression. -Spare me the story about the gnomish thief, ye old drunkard. Instead, tell me when he passed through here. The bartender lost his smile and looked through the door the pirate entered from. -He went through that same door behind ye almost five years ago. Trail mus'have gone cold, by now, eh. And when HE left, there was still a door. And a pub, for that matter. The Captain loudly grumbled while looking back at his drink on the counter. Miscris had her sight fixed on the door, looking lost in thoughts. After a few minutes (or a few drinks, for the Captain, that is), Miscris asked the bartender for the story. The Captain looked at her suspiciously, but his mind as numb as a Rahi because of the toughness of the drinks, just got up (with hardness). -I don'want to hear 'bout this slave'o'the Hunters. I'll just fin'a better pub, he said sharply, before leaving unsteadily and staggeringly. Miscris and the old miser watched him get out, and then he looked at her with a smile. -You wiser than yer old man, lass. But info ain'cheap, he said, rubbing his hands together. The Ga-Matoran rolled her eyes and gave the old bartender a gold coin. After trying to bend it to verify its material, the old man put his hand on the counter, a determined look in his eyes as he looked down on the First Mate. -Pull a chair, lass, and clean open yer ears ; me version of the tale's the real one, not only since it was in me pub that these thugs tried t'ambush that night's hero, but since t'was also closing time, and there was only me left alive along with that furious drunkard! *** Category:Blog posts